Foodservice

It is midnight after working a double shift at Brennan's, so I am in the mood to break the cycle of morbidity with some plain-old ranting. Last night I conversed with friends about the merits of various restaurants in town, and now I will try to distill that argument/conversation into some big truths of eating out.

The primary skill of a waiter is to be calm under pressure. I like to sing be-bop songs when I get anxious about the food taking too long, pressure from the boss, something on fire, etc. Customers generally only start hating the establishment and the dining occasion once the waiter flips. As a diner, I don't mind waiting or being otherwise patient if my waiter seems well-intentioned and calm. The waiter sets the tone for the diner, as well as fellow waiters and subordinates. So, calm, collected, and pleasant under pressure is the definition of a good waiter.

(Of course, not making mistakes prevents the pressure in the first place. That means the waiter should be surrounded by experienced staff and should proceed carefully.)

Quinn's rule for eating food at restaurants was that it was only worth it if she could not feasibly prepare the same food, better, at home. That is a very high bar! In that sense I am proud of many of the dishes at Brennan's - poached eggs and Hollandaise sauce are really mean, especially at 10am. No way I could prepare them myself, and even she would probably back off. Then we have a turtle soup which is, well, really good and unique and hard to imitate. Where will I get turtle meat?

Likewise, when we dine out we make a point of ordering interesting, special items. I cannot understand people who ask for eggs benedict when our super-special 'signature' dish is a benedict plus a super-cool sauce. Or people who ask for french toast and waffles. Seriously. Why are you here? Go make that in your hotel kitchenette in under fifteen minutes. I want to know what a restaurant is famous for, what the chef feels like making. And that brings the elephant in Brennan's kitchen - no one cares.

A good cook cares. We know this at home. Well, a good chef is interested in food, too. I promise that the chefs at Brennan's are not interested in food. They are not foodies. They do not eat at other interesting places. They are not excited to try something new. In their defense, they aren't paid well enough to care. Now take a really good restaurant, like my favorite Dante's or Jacque-imo's. The people in their kitchens experiment, eat, love food. The result is interesting and unusual works that are genuinely creative aesthetic works. Philosophically, when eating in or dining out, I don't only want to engage my digestion, but also my emotion. I want to connect with the chef (and the farmer, and the waiter). I try to provide that as much as I can at Brennan's, and people appreciate me for it ($). But eating at Dante's is a connection to the farmers who grow the veg, and the town that holds the chicken coops. The waiters are real people, not just monkeys throwing bananas. The chef is there emotionally and spiritually, and takes an active interest in my enjoyment of the food. The bartender enjoys his work, and likes making good drinks. The cat is fat and cuddly. I connect with the good restaurant in more ways than with my taste buds and duodenum. That is added value, worth paying money for.

So, in summary, a good restaurant offers food that is better than I (Quinn) could prepare, that is to say food that impresses us. A great restaurant adds to that with real personality, promoting a real relationship between me and the food, staff, and place. Real relationships, as we have discussed before in this blog, are the metaphysical stuff of God. So, I can confidently say that a great restaurant is holy. Blessings to Beaucherie, Dante's, Jacque's, Mimi's, Jamilla's, Daisy, Iroha, and all of our favorite places around the world.